


Fight Club

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [21]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fist Fights, M/M, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie and Malcolm are trying a different pub to their local......it doesn't end well.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Club

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was sent to me by @petersgal........"prompt...jamie and malcolm are the pub,a row starts and a fight ensues ,when malcolm and jamie get out jamie collapses and its not good..yep another angst as i do love angst..good luck my friend..."  
> So as I know how much she enjoys her angst......I made it nice and angsty!! And I'm afraid, another medical emergency was inevitable.......I really think the Tuckers' and the McDonalds' should consider private medical insurance, if they haven't already, the premium would be through the roof!!!  
> We also explore a little more of my imagined background for Malcolm and Jamie's friendship.

FIGHT CLUB.

 

It seemed odd to some people that Malcolm and Jamie enjoyed going to the pub.  
It was sort of built into their DNA, smoky Glasgow ale houses, spit and sawdust, where all the working men spent their spare time. They'd both grown up with that culture.  
Strange now though, because neither really drank, and neither smoked any more.  
Jamie might enjoy a pint, or a Scotch, Malcolm had the odd dram or a glass of wine, but that was it.  
It was more the social aspect.  
Their favourite watering hole was The Anchor, down by the River. On summer days they could sit outside, watch the world go by, chat about old times, put the political world to rights.  
In winter there was a real fire and it was warm and snug.  
It was their blokey domain, Sam and Ellie almost never entered the inner sanctum.  
So, it came as a great annoyance when their little manly idyll was closed for refurbishment.  
"We'll have to go to The Red Lion, it's the only other place nearby." Malcolm complained.  
"But it's full of wankers, and the beer tastes like gnat's piss." Jamie folded his arms with a grimace.  
"Yeah.....and that Doreen behind the bar, she's such a fucking slapper.....she reminds me of Fat Pat!"  
"Shut up Malc, it's taken years of therapy for me to get over being snogged by her at the Christmas Party that year. Don't bring that image back into my head."  
Malcolm roared with laughter.  
"Fuck me, I'd forgotten that......you, with Fat Pat's tongue down your throat....I dined out on that story for months."  
"Says the man who dated Kelly 'fuck me day and night' Grogan!"  
"Ouch! Touché ! Come on tosser......neck that brew. Time to go home I think!"

oOo

Sidling through the mob.  
Fighting their way to the bar.  
There was an unruly football crowd in.  
Mayhem.  
"Fucking hell, Jamie. Remind me why we came here again? I think I'd rather have a drink at home." Malcolm yelled above the din.  
"Once we get a bevvy, there's a table over in the corner, by the window.....we'll go and sit over there."  
Malcolm bought a pint, handed it to his friend. Turned back for a wine and to pay the lovely Doreen.  
"Hey....you.....Jimmy!"  
An obnoxious, chubby man of about 45, wearing his football shirt, imprinted with his name.......Terry.......clapped Jamie on the back heavily, obviously having heard his accent.  
"Brilliant pal......never heard that one before......it's a corker, you should be proud."  
The man frowned, swayed slightly and jabbed a finger.  
"You taking the fucking piss Jock?"  
"Oh kiss my bollocks mate. Drink your drink. I've got no beef with you."  
Malcolm moved across between the two, glass in hand.  
"Good result for you today pal. Nice one."  
The man regarded Malcolm closely, with a hint of recognition.  
"Here......don't I know you?" 'Terry' peered at Malcolm carefully, " I've seen you on the goggle box.....or in the papers! Are you famous?"  
"Me? No, I'm just out to enjoy a quiet drink. There's nothing famous about me."  
Setting his drink to one side, the man turned to his friend......  
"Here, Dave.....look at these two tartan wankers......I'm sure this one's been on telly."  
He grabbed Malcolm's jumper to turn him, so that 'Dave' could get a good look, spilling his drink.  
"Watch out! Oh for fucks sake! Look....you tosser. Just leave us be, yeah? Fucking hell."  
He mopped at the wine, which was now decorating the front of him.  
It all went downhill from there.  
"I know where I've fucking seen you.......you used to work for the Prime Minister.....I remember now, you were all over the papers......you're the bastard that leaked that poor guy's telephone number and details......you should have gone to prison, I'm going to take you down a peg or two, you fucking shit."  
Without warning he swung a punch at Malcolm, which, fortunately, he managed to duck.  
All hell broke lose.  
His mate Dave waded in, and went for Malcolm too, catching him in the right eye.  
Never saw it coming, no chance to take evasive action.  
Before he had time to even think, Jamie was beside him....they exchanged a glance....  
"Motherwell Rules?" Jamie said, with a wicked wink.  
Malcolm gave a nod.  
Taking the said Terry by the front of his shirt, and bringing his own head back, Jamie nutted him.  
Hard.  
The drunken slob reeled backwards.  
Malcolm had only ever thrown a punch twice in his life, once to his father, at 15, when he decided it was the last time he'd watch him terrorise his mother......and once when he'd walloped Glenn Cullen on the nose.....this, however, was probably his finest hour.....  
A right hook, just under the chin, took care of Dave. He sank back against the bar and slid slowly down.  
Malcolm massaged his aching knuckles, and shook the hand vigorously at the wrist, to quell the pain, with a look of some satisfaction.  
"Fuckwit! You need to get your facts right." He growled, glowering down.  
Back came Terry again, for a second round. Swearing loudly.  
Managing somehow to thrust a fist into Jamie's gut, while he was distracted, causing him to bend sharply as the air left him like a pin in a balloon.  
The landlord grabbed him then, before Malcolm, or anyone else could cause further trouble.  
He was frog marched to the door and unceremoniously thrown out.  
"The police are on their way, so don't come back." He called after him.  
Back at the bar, Jamie was still doubled over, and breathing puffs of air rapidly through his lips. Doreen the barmaid was fussing over him.  
Malcolm caught sight of his own rapidly swelling right eye, in the mirror behind the counter.  
"Shit!"  
They were both so fucked.  
Ellie and Sam would be furious, a pub brawl, for Christ's sake!  
They would both receive a bollocking, he knew it, Sam was going to do her nut when she saw him.  
"Come on, McDonald.....let's get you home! Great night this turned out to be!"

 

oOo

 

Threading Jamie's arm over his own shoulder, he helped him outside, towards where he'd parked the car.  
"Batman and Robin eh? Jamie breathed, "Biff, bosh, ker-pow....!"  
"What an arsehole! What'd he have to pick on me for? That's the worst of my face, people don't forget it!"  
"Stop a minute Malc....." Jamie's breathing was still ragged, he leaned heavily on the car bonnet.  
"Get in the car, you twat. We'll be home in a few minutes."  
Seating him on the passenger side, Malcolm started the engine and drove away.  
After only a few hundred yards he pulled over.  
Jamie was struggling, he could see it.  
Pale and sweating, holding his left side, high up where the blow hit him.  
"Think I'm gonna puke." He gasped.  
Malcolm opened the automatic window.  
"You throw up in my car and I'll make you fucking clear it up......"  
He tried to be jovial but couldn't disguise his concern.  
Leaning back against the head rest, Jamie's face contorted in agony.  
"Shit......Malcolm, I think you should get me to hospital, I think I'm having a fucking heart attack."  
He was grey now, still panting for breath, still clutching his left side.  
They were close to St. Mary's, there was an A&E there, Malcolm restarted the car and roared off, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to comfort his best friend.  
"Don't you fucking die on me you cunt......or I'll bring you back to life and fucking kill you myself."  
Jamie was past speech, eyes fluttering closed.  
"JAMIE! JAMIE!...... Bastard! You'd die just to fucking spite me."

Slamming open the double doors to the Casualty Department, Malcolm raced in, scared as hell.......only seconds passed before his fellow Scot was loaded onto a trolley and rushed through.  
Malcolm following in his wake.  
Jamie clutching onto his hand.  
"We'll take it from here sir.....you go to reception."  
"Can't I stay with him?"  
The paramedic gave him a curious look, then rolled his eyes knowingly.  
Malcolm clocked it, realised the implication....  
"We're lovers......get over it!" He spat.  
"We'll call you through shortly." He replied, curtly and disappeared through the swing doors. 

The garbled and incoherent phone call Sam received, saw her dashing immediately next door to ask her neighbour if she could watch the children.  
Weeping and almost unable to string a sentence together, she gathered enough to know she was needed......now.  
"Malcolm.........calm.........focus, have you rung Ellie?"  
"No.......rang you first. Sam.....Sam.....I think he's having a fucking heart attack.......Sam......"  
"I'll be there in ten minutes. Ring Ellie. Tell her to come. Bring Jess with her if she has to, I'll take care of her. Just ring her Malcolm. Tell her. Okay? I'm on my way......"

The state of her husband as she entered the hospital, was a sight Sam would really prefer to forget.  
Pacing the corridor.  
Just as he used to when she'd first known him.  
A massive shiner round his right eye, bloodshot, livid and swollen.  
A face of fear.  
Knitted brows, jaw set.  
Tearful.  
When he saw her he almost fell into her arms.  
"What the hell happened? You only went for a quiet drink."  
She held him tight.  
"Some fucking wank stain started on us. Punched him in the gut." Was all he managed to blurt out.  
Moments later the doors swung open again, as Ellie ran through.  
Eyes wide, face blanched.  
She looked at the Tuckers, from one to the other, looked at Malcolm's distraught face.....  
"Where is my husband?" She said, weakly.  
Sam put an arm around her, sat her down.  
"They're with him. We don't know anything yet."  
"I want to see him." 

oOo

Monitors bleeping.  
IV line drip, drip, drip.  
It wasn't a coronary.  
Heart like a fucking ox apparently.  
Medicated.  
Attractive paper gown.  
Pale as milk. A sheen of perspiration.  
Ellie seated at his side, face tear stained.  
Sleepy but at least alive.  
Malcolm peeped his head around the curtain.  
"Still not dead then.......wanker!"  
"Fuck off you cunt." He replied weakly, "They're prepping me for surgery."  
"What do they think?"  
"Fuck knows.......gonna open me up."  
Jamie turned to his wife.......  
"Nip and grab a coffee for a sec, eh love? Let me talk to Malc a minute."  
Ellie looked from one to the other, as if unsure, then rose, squeezing her husband's hand.  
"Okay. Be back in a minute."  
As soon as the door closed behind her, Jamie tried to sit up a little.  
He grabbed Malcolm by the hand......pulled him down closer.  
"Malc.......mate......promise me something yeah?"  
"What?"  
"If anything happens......you know......promise me you'll look after Ellie and Jess......please mate?"  
"Fucking hell, Jamie, nothing's gonna happen. You'll be fine!"  
"Fucking promise me, you bloody sod......"  
"Okay. I promise. Now stop fucking talking like that. You're scaring the shit out of me. You'll be fine and dandy."

oOo

Why is it that when we wait for something the hours pass so slowly?  
Seated in the family interview room.  
Trying not to look at each other, the odd furtive glance, then looking away.  
Eventually Ellie lay down across two chairs. Curled up. Completely wrung out.  
Her head resting in Sam's lap.  
Malcolm wandered. Fidgeted. Paced.  
Sat down. Stood up.  
Fretted.  
The pile of paper coffee cups increasing as the hours passed.  
At last the door was pushed open and a Doctor entered, dressed in Theatre fatigues, cap on and mask flopping lose around his neck.  
Ellie raised herself, swallowed nervously.  
Braced.  
Impossible for her face to be any more colourless.  
"Mrs.McDonald? First let me tell you your husband is fine."  
Ellie almost sank into Sam's side with relief. Her hands shaking as the two women held each other fast.  
Malcolm felt as if he was hearing the words through a distant fog, indistinct, fuzzy.  
He sat down heavily on the plastic chair and put his head in his hands.  
"He's in the Post Op room, and you should be able to see him once he's transferred to a ward. His spleen was ruptured but not severely. Sometimes if the tear is a bad one, the spleen has to be removed, but I've managed to effect a repair, and he should make a full recovery. We'll need to monitor him for signs of fresh bleeding over the next 48 hours, and he is currently receiving a blood transfusion."  
"I'll come back in a short while, and tell you which ward he's on, then you can see for yourself."  
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you."  
Sam hugged her best friend tight.  
"See! I told you he'd be fine, he's as strong as a horse."  
Sam turned to find her husband had slipped out of the room.  
"Ellie, will you be okay for a moment? I need to go find Malcolm."  
Across from the ambulance bay, a grassy area held a number of wooden benches.  
Sam could see him, seated there. Staring blankly into the middle distance.  
She sat down by his side.  
Leaned in.  
Took his hand.  
"He's okay, Malc......he's fine. You okay?"  
Malcolm nodded.  
Silent.  
His lip was trembling.  
"Malc......I don't know what happened. I don't want to know. But it wasn't your fault. Your quick thinking, bringing him straight here, probably saved him. You did good. Okay?"  
He shook his head.  
Turned to her, eyes glassy.  
"He could have died." He whispered. "He's my best and oldest friend. The only one who really knows, and he could have died."  
"Knows?"  
"Yeah. Knows all the shit from way back. From when we worked at The Herald together. When we were young and knew fuck all, but thought we knew everything and wanted to take on the world. Knew about my Da, and about my wife.......he was there, right through the divorce......I'd have fucking topped myself then, if it hadn't been for him.  
I was on my knees, Sam. And he dragged me up, every day, made me get on with it, made me keep going.......and I could have lost him. Just like that. In the moment it took that wanker to punch him. Fuck me."  
"But you didn't Malcolm. You haven't lost him. It makes me wonder how you ever argued. Became estranged. When you'd been so close."  
Malcolm gave a scornful laugh.  
"Fuck knows! Don't even remember what it was all about now. Something fucking puerile I expect. Acting like two bloody kids in the playground.....I'd have never got in touch again, if you hadn't made me. Now he's the closest thing I've got to a brother. I love him Sam. I really do."  
"I know you do, Malcolm. Of course you do. He loves you too, he looks up to you, respects you."  
"Yeah. He always did. Fuck knows why. Stupid bugger. All that swearing and bluster towards me was just to cover it up, half the fucking department thought we were gay.  
But we're from the same litter, you see, Glasgow Boys, neither of us fitted in....with the Poxbridge brigade, both had to work twice as hard to make our mark, show those public school arseholes we were better than them.  
Two working class shysters........with more balls than all of them put together."  
Malcolm chuckled to himself.  
"I remember when I accused him of leaking the Ben Swain racism story to The Mail, called him a Pint Pot Judas, he was so hurt that I'd thought him capable of that.......he talked about it for days."  
"I'm glad you've got each other, Malcolm, and I'm glad you made it up with him. Now he's got Ellie and little Jess, and we practically bought them together. The four of us are good."  
"Yeah. And it nearly all went tits up.....all because of that prick in the football shirt. Nothing's ever certain Sam. We never know what's just around the corner. Life is such a tenuous thread."  
He leaned forward, rubbing his face with both his hands, feeling his swollen eye.  
"Give us a hug Sam. Yeah? Need a hug right now."  
"This has not turned out to be quite the evening I had planned."  
"You and me both!"  
She held him tight, head against his shoulder.  
Malcolm let out a sigh, and thanked his lucky stars they were both, more or less, in one piece.


End file.
